


Will You Fix Me?

by JensonLevi



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JensonLevi/pseuds/JensonLevi
Summary: Maxwell falls ill and his terrified lover brings home a friend.





	Will You Fix Me?

Pale light streamed in the thick curtains. The velvet red fabric waved gently as the breeze blew through the open window. The cool air washed over the sweating pair on the bed. The much younger nude man panted hard, shivering as the cold air nipped at his damp, salty skin. He couldn't wrap his arms around himself as his hands were tightly bound to the mahogony bedposts. His legs were closed tightly together to hide his bottom half as tears trickled down his rosy red cheeks. Beside him lay an old and wiry man, known as Maxwell Roth. Maxwell had fallen ill just days before. He was pale, and extremely dehydrated. His breath had already became little more than a wheeze.

The young man craned his neck to look across the bed to the old man. He almost felt sorry for him... Almost. "D-darling, do you think you could untie me?" the young man begged, trying use a gentle tone as possible. He was petrified, but refused to let it show.

"Not now, Jacob, I'm-" Roth coughed, "I'm to tired right now."

"Then call someone to do it, please my love, my arms are aching," Jacob complained,kissing up to him.

Maxwell sighed, sitting up. He raised himself onto his knees and reached over to untie one of the restraints. His old hands shook as he lifted them. His arthritis riddled fingers tugged at the rope. Once he had finally removed it, he brought Jacob's raw wrist to his dry lips, kissing it tenderly. Jacob's wrist had a thick band of red, cut and bloodied. The young man cringed, the tender flesh stinging intensely. Jacob had barely moved his arm to untie his other hand when Roth had fallen forward on the bed, coughing violently. He tried to keep his body up by holding onto the headboard. He attempted to catch a breath and failed to do so. His eyes watered, tears cascaded down his wrinkled face. He let go of the headboard, his sore hands grasping at his throat.

Jacob halted his attempt to free himself, using he only free hand to comfort the old man. He rubbed his back gently, offering an apologetic expression. Roth turned slightly to look into Jacob's green eyes, hoping it wouldn't be the last time.

"I'm alright darling." He croaked. His throat had become incredibly dry. He never seemed to be able to stay hydrated. "You should go, you have some work to do, yes?" Roth gave him the brightest smile he could manage. Jacob didn't hesitate to untie the restraint. He hurried off of the bed and had gotten his clothes on, worry painting his features.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Jacob asked. He didn't really care, he just thought it would be best to ask.

"Yes, I'll be quite alright. Just as long as you hurry back." Roth said, turning over onto his back, exposing himself. "And when you get back, you know exactly where you will be." He have a crooked smile, eyes flicking down to his flaccid cock. Jacob blushed deeply.

He turned to leave through the window. "I'll come back as soon as possible." he assured. He knew it was a lie, but he didn't understand why he wanted it to be true.

~*~

Jacob launched forward, his zip line dipping down only slightly. He gripped the wire, and threw himself forward. He had made it to the next building. He got to the opposite ledge, launching the zip line again.

He soon found himself in his desired location:The edge of London. Jacob and his sister had been in London for a few weeks. He had found where he liked to be outside of the train. Whether it be in a full fight club, or a deserted old warehouse that he had cleared out. At this time, he really needed to be alone. He didn't need the feeling he was being watched, as he often did in the deserted buildings.

The man sat down onto the small hill on the outskirts of London. The grass was wet against his hands. He liked how the cool dew felt against his hot skin. He looked over the sparsely treed area. He fingers pulled at the grass absent minded, thinking of nothing. He could only stare at the empty world around him, not even flinching when the train whistle wailed from behind him. He was too... empty to feel anything, do anything.

He got off of the wet ground, the seat of his pants wet. He sighed softly. Great, it looked like he had pissed himself. He decided just to avoid people, get around the city by roof top. He began to walk down the train tracks. He stepped onto the wooden planks, skipping the empty spaces full of gravel.

He looked behind himself, a train crawling up on him. He stepped off of the tracks, thinking it wouldn't be a bad idea to just stand there. He stood in the ditch, trying to figure out who the train belonged to. It soon became obvious that it was not his and his sisters and he continued on his way back to the city.

Jacob shot his zip line up, getting up onto the top of a building. He sat down against the shingles, looking over the busy streets of London. He looked to the slowly darkening sky. As he stared, the darkened sky began to tear. The people pointed, unsure of what to make of it.

Jacob scoffed, Evie would have a field day with this, claiming it was connected to a piece of Eden. He believed all the artifacts were nothing to be troubled with, he seen no point to them. He had never seen any first hand nor did he plan to do so. He sighed, staring at the brightly glowing tear. He briefly wondered why it was there and where it came from. Did it even matter?

He turned his attention back to the shingles. The family who owned this house should replace these, he thought, it would only be a matter of time before the roof began to leak. Their children, who were screaming in delight as they played, would get sick from the mildew and mold that would grow in the ceiling. He walked across the roof, picking out the curling shingles. He looked across the short gap, giving a small hop to get across.

A woman on the ground screamed in terror, pointing at the gaping tear. A figure began to flail around as it fell toward the ground. It scrambled to get across the sky, positioning itself over a tall building, what looked to be Big Ben. Curiosity had gotten the best of Jacob. He launched his zip line, speeding toward that part of the city.

They sky was dimming, the clouds becoming a dark grey-purple colour. The glowing gap slowly began to mend it's self as rain began to fall over the stone streets of London. It was becoming more difficult to get across the roof tops, for the zip line to get a good hold and for Jacob to get his footing against the tin and shingled roofs.

The figure clung to to the sharp peak of Big Ben. He kicked and tightened his grip, still unable to get a hold of it. He panted, his breath becoming exiting his mouth in a mist. He made soft mewls of frustration and concern. He looked below himself, his heart skipping a beat. The streets below him were unfamiliar, not to mention, 320 feet below him. The people looked like little ants, their carriages like the small, fat, water beetles.

Jacob climbed up the side of the clock. He grunted as he jumped from his position, loading his zip line to get to the next level. He could no longer see the figure from his position. He watched his foot position, being sure not to slip. He shook his head, trying to get the falling water out of his eyes.

Finally finished loading, Jacob raised his arm, pulling the trigger. He kicked from the wall of the clock, climbing higher and higher. He had gotten to a spot where he could see the figures feet. The souls of it's shoes were incredibly warn out... and small.

If Cinderella were real, this person definitely could have stolen that little glass slipper.

Jacob climbed the last few feet to the top of the Clock. He finally got a good look at the figure. It was a man, an assassin's robes adorning his body. He had a belt covered in tools, like smoke bombs and throwing knives. The man looked down, letting out a breath of relieve. "Oh! Merci!" He panted, his arms ready to give out.

"My deepest apologies, but I don't speak what ever that language was." He reached out his hand to take the other mans. He took it gratefully and slid down to Jacob, shivering like a frightened child.

"Je m'appelle Arno." The man said.

" Again, do not speak that." Jacob said, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm sorry," He sounded unsure of the words. He looked to Jacob for confirmation. The other man nodded. Arno gave a small smile in return. "My name is Arno," He stuck out his hand.

"Jacob," The Brit answered, taking Arno's hand. He held it in a firm grip, shaking it. After a moment, their hands dropped. "So, how are we going to get you down?" Jacob asked, looking over his bracer. 

Arno simply shrugged. "I was thinking I would just climb down." He looked over the edge. "I should be okay now." He offered a smile. 

"I'll meet you on the ground then," the man launched his zip line across the street on the lowest level. Arno stood in amazement. He sighed. He might take a while. He grasped onto the ledge, quickly lowering himself down. He made sure he had a tight grip as he stepped down. Before he attempted go lower, he made sure he had his footing. Once he gained some confidence in himself, he scaled down at a fast pace.

By the time Arno had managed to reach the bottom, Jacob was already waiting, leaning against the stone work of the enormous clock. The man was focused on his nails, inspecting them of all the dirt and grime that has accumulated underneath them.

Arno panted slightly as he came over to the tall man. Jacob smiled brightly. "Finally! Roth is waiting for us." Arno looked confused. "You will stay with us, won't you? Maxwell has the space." He looked so hopeful.

The Frenchman thought about it, unsure if he could trust the other man- he had only just met him! He bit his bottom lip, looking up to the sky. A bright blue streak broke apart the vibrant oranges and pinks of the nearing twilight. He sighed gently, suddenly feeling melancholy. 

"Sure."

Jacob's face brightened, if that was even possible. "Then let's go!"

~*~

The sky had dimmed to a dull grey colour. The blue had slowly dimmed, it was basically transparent by the time supper had been prepared. Maxwell and Jacob sat on one end of the table. Jacob had become rigid and seemingly fearful. Arno looked at them curiously, inspecting Maxwell's movements and Jacob's reactions. It almost always the same. Maxwell would touch, Jacob would close his eyes, his body jerking away, only to fall right back into place.

Arno continued to watch as he ate his own meal. The food was atrocious, but, not wishing to be rude, he said nothing. He would have to talk to Jacob about this later.

Just as Arno looked back down, Maxwell doubled over, his face inches away from Jacob's knee. He heaved, gasping to catch his breath as he coughed. He gripped his throat tightly. Jacob flew off of his chair and onto his knees, trying to convince Maxwell to sit up, telling him he would get more air into his lungs. The older man didn't listen as tears beaded down his face, merging with sweat. 

Arno stood up silently, unsure how to help. "Maxwell, Maxwell, please."

The old man couldn't contain it. His breath was beginning to smell much different. It smelled sickly and fowl. "Maxwell! You have to breath!" Maxwell only coughed harder. Soon, they became wheezes. The old man's body became limp in the chair, falling over into Jacob's arms.

Arno swallowed back before gliding silently across the room. He sat onto his knees beside Jacob and placed his hand on the boys knee comfortingly. He could feel the other shiver through the thick material of his trousers. He looked into the others eyes, watching the tears roll down his red cheeks.

After what seemed like hours, Arno convinced Jacob to stand. "We should leave, find that train you own." He said softly, his arm holding Jacob around the waist.

"I-I can't go to the train," Jacob sobbed. Arno ignored him, leading him out of the large house. 

~*~

They made their way to the train station. They were given looks of disgust and curiosity. Jacob hid his face into Arno's shoulder, unsure of what to do with himself. He felt useless, but so liberated, so free! He had spent three years in the cold clutches of Maxwell, as warm and loving he treated him. Jacob always felt as if he was under supervision, as if he were a prisoner.

Arno sat Jacob down on a wooden bench. He looked into his eyes, holding his hand. "Jacob, what was that in the house? When ever he would touch you, you flinched." He knew it was too early to ask, but he just needed to know. 

Jacob's eyes closed tightly, the very mention of his name washed a wave of sadness over him. He held onto Arno's torso, sobbing like a child. The Frenchman stroked his hair back soothingly. He could hear his sobs sputter into little gasps. 

"I feel so stupid," Jacob muttered, finally calming down. Arno tilted his head as to ask why. "He hit me.. He made me feel small and so insignificant. Why did I love him? Why am I crying over him?" He buried his face into the others robes.

"Because what you had was once real. You clung to the memory of what once was. You were together for three years, there was once something there that kept you together. If there wasn't, you would have left him long ago. You loved him so much, but he broke you."

Jacob looked up into Arno's almond brow eyes. "Will you fix me?"


End file.
